It was just before 11 o'clock last night when the chant went round one of Spain's most emblematic, soon-to-be-bulldozed stadiums. Massive smiles stretched across the faces of fans who had just seen their side produce a fabulous 5-1 victory and they began hopping from foot to foot, swirling scarves from their wrists and bellowing at the Dutchman down on the bench: "Koeman quédate, Koeman quédate, Kooooe-man qué-da-te!" Never mind bitter chants of "Koeman, go now!" - the latest in a long and imaginative line from "Cúper, go now!" to "Benítez, go now!" and "Claudio, go now!" to "Quique, go now!" - the call was for Ronald Koeman to stay.

The chants might not have been surprising, coming four days after Koeman's team won their first Copa del Rey since 1999, but for one thing: the giggling fans doing the chanting were Athletic Bilbao fans. When Valencia ran on to the pitch at San Mamés last night, Athletic gave them a guard of honour; by the time they trudged off the pitch at San Mamés, Athletic had given them a kicking. The side that hadn't managed to score more than twice at home all season and that had only once scored three - when they visited Valencia - had banged in five. Five more nails in Koeman's coffin. "The dressing room," said Raúl Albiol, "is a funeral" - and the funeral was Koeman's.

If Athletic's fans called for Koeman to stay, Valencia's fans can't wait for him to leave - nor can the players, the board and the media. Today, an 8m pay-off permitting, they will get their wish. Even though they were happy enough sacking Quique Sánchez Flores at 4:24am, puppet president Agustín Morera pledged he wouldn't react "in the heat of the moment", insisting "all decisions are agreed by the board". What he meant was: "Right now I can't get hold of flabby-jowled owner Juan Soler so he can tell us what to agree on." Meanwhile, Carlos Marchena kindly pointed out: "Us players have to work with the coach, whoever he is. But if the board want our opinion, they know where to find us."

Their opinion is that Koeman is a disaster. And they may have a point. When Valencia sacked Sánchez-Flores, they were four points off the top; now, they're 35 points off. Worse still, they're just two points above the relegation zone and have the hardest run-in of the struggling clubs: Osasuna, Barcelona, Zaragoza, Levante and Atlético. They've picked up just 18 of a possible 66 points since he took over, winning just four in 22 and completing their worst ever season at Mestalla. Last night's 5-1 defeat was their worst away result in 25 years and they've won just once in the last six, losing the other five. Mind you, that win was against soon-to-be-champions Real Madrid in the same week that they defeated Barcelona in the Cup, creating a sudden surge of optimism. And they did win the Copa del Rey.

Trouble is, the Cup has only revealed the depth of the division, making the warring parties even more entrenched. From Koeman's point of view, winning the Cup showed he could succeed if only the players could be bothered more often; from everyone else's point of view, it showed that Valencia could succeed if only he'd leave, some players slyly letting it be known that they'd ditched Koeman's tactics and done it their way. Joaquín admitted that Koeman's 4-3-3 has the players "running round with headless chickens".

Nor is it just the tactics. Koeman lost much of a divided dressing room when he lacked the personality to stand up to Juan Soler's demands to sack the Valencia Three, ending up in court and with Vicente, Silva and Villa looking for a way to leave. He lost Joaquín when he dropped him from the squad for arriving two minutes late to a team-talk, even though he had included Ever Banega, who'd been picked up by the police for drink-driving, prompting the winger to snipe: "Maybe next time I'll get pissed and run a red light instead." And he lost Iván Helguera and more when he publicly berated the players for not being good enough, prompting Helguera to bemoan a "lack of respect". "I don't know if I have the squad behind me," shrugged Koeman, "but I reckon four or five of them are on my side."

The squad is indeed behind him. Right behind him, knives at the ready like the passengers on the Orient Express. What the Cup success really showed is that, apart from trusty poodle José María Bakero, Koeman is utterly isolated, that "four or five" is wishful thinking. As the final whistle blew on Wednesday's final, he stumbled on to the field at the Vicente Calderón looking forlornly for someone to hug. The few players to embrace him did so half-heartedly, leaving Koeman to hover on the fringes as the photos were taken. When he finally left the stadium well after 1am, emerging into the gloom, he strolled about as if he was looking for someone to pat him on the back, say 'well done' or just smile in his rough direction. As the players came past, each and every one of them ignored him until eventually he boarded the bus. Alone.

Koeman has hardly helped himself, but the real culprit is a club that's never at peace; the Dutchman walked into a viper's nest, where sporting directors and coaches are at each other's throats like a bunch of deranged emus; where, with honourable exceptions, fans are never satisfied; where president and shareholders are always at war, creating tension and instability. As Koeman boarded an empty bus on Wednesday night, the club handed out press communiqués saying there would be no formal celebration. No visit to the town council. No open-topped bus. No silly wigs. No offering to the virgin. And no one informing Koeman. Above all, no embracing of the one thing that could have brought the club together, revealing yet again what a miserable, self-destructive institution Valencia has become, one that's about to put a fourth manager in charge. If they go down many will wave goodbye, but many too will wave good riddance.